


Stay the Night

by Avonannie



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-13 17:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10518576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avonannie/pseuds/Avonannie
Summary: The slightly darker, more mature sequel to Stay.The beast is human now, but still haunted by dreams of his past.  Belle watched him die in her arms.  That can never be erased. Still, her prince will try.





	1. Chapter 1

_Belle bent over the lifeless body of her dear, precious beast. Her beloved prince. His eyes stared beyond her, dull and sightless, the light that made them so beautiful having been extinguished. The agony that ripped through her made her want to roar with her own animalistic cry of pain and fury. She would beat her chest at the universe and rail against the injustice of it._

_Her one love. Her only love. The truest love that had ever been._

_The tears flowed freely now._

_"Come back," she begged softly. "Come back! I love you!" But though he ought to have moved, he did not. There was no magical light. No enchantress came to reverse the curse. Only cold and dark and night and emptiness. Such deep emptiness. It engulfed her and consumed her. And as she watched in horror, her grief took on new form. Her hands grew outwards into claws and her bodice ripped away as a mighty beast's chest ripped forth. She was the beast now. Empty and cold. Devoid of love. And she roared at the night sky and railed against the merciless demons of the night as blood and tears fell from the heavens. The angels wept with her pain. For there would be no joy in the world again._

Belle sat up with a startled cry. She was whole. She was human. Her dear prince, her beloved Adam was whole and human and sleeping in his own bedchambers. But the room felt cold with the chill of her nightmare. She ached with the need to see him. Though the castle was dark and all the servants slept, she needed to find him. Slipping on a robe and lighting a candle and setting it in a candelabra - just a lifeless, unenchanted candelabra – she left her room and stole quietly across the castle to the once foreboding west wing.

The door to the prince's chambers no longer creaked as she slid it open and peeked inside. The quiet rise and fall of his chest reassured her that he was sleeping. As silently as a shadow, she slipped across the room and placed the candelabra on a nearby bedtable. With a shaky breath, Belle stole under the covers and laid beside her prince, her Adam, still her beast though human.

He stirred and then startled as he saw her.

"Belle," he whispered. "What are you doing here?" He smiled as he stroked the hair from her face, then his face grew more serious as he caught the tenor of her mood. "Belle," he questioned, still softly. "Oh, Belle, my love. What is it?" The tears began to fall from Belle's eyes as she clung to him, letting him soothe and calm her. He always calmed her. Soon enough, the tears dried and Belle regained her composure. Smiling weakly, she swiped at her eyes.

"It was a dream. I needed to see you. I know you're well, but when we're apart, sometimes I'm filled with so much fear." Adam held her close, cradling her head and stroking her head.

"Hush, love," he whispered. "A dream, as you said. And I am well now." He kissed her brown hair lightly. "Now, and always. You made me well. You made me whole." He drew back and met her gaze, lifting her chin so their eyes would meet. "You see, love? I am whole. And here. And you are here." He planted a sweet kiss on her lips. Not their first and never their last. "We are here together. No need for tears. You did right to come to me." He held her close again, tucking her head under his chin, and she clung to him like a lifeline. "Always come to me, sweet Belle."

"Always," she agreed softly. She felt the warmth of his body spread through her, a desire that was becoming more familiar with every day. She could feel his desire, too, but did not know what to do with it.

He seemed disinclined to pursue it, and she did not know what to do about that. She was certain it was because they were not yet wed. Nevertheless, he held her close, kissing her cheeks and wiping his thumb across the place where the tears had fallen. She settled close to him and let him stroke her hair and soothe the fear that had left her so shaken.

"I should return to my own bed," she whispered. "The servants will talk."

"They already do," he replied. "I wish you wouldn't. I miss you when you are gone." He pulled her even closer, impossibly close. She wasn't sure, but she thought she caught a tremor in his voice. She did not know what it meant.

"Adam," she whispered. "Are you alright?" She pulled back just slightly to gaze at his face, but his eyes were closed and he pulled her back into his embrace.

"No," he whispered honestly. "I dream, too. Sometimes. But I like it here. It's warm here, with you in my arms. Sometimes I fear that I will wake up still a beast. That everything will be as it was and all this will be gone." He was quiet for a moment, and then whispered again, his voice conveying all the vulnerability and shyness that Belle felt.

"Stay the night."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a/n: Poem is sonnet 39 by Shakespeare

The sun peeked over the horizon, bathing the Prince's chambers in hues of pink and yellow. Adam opened his eyes slowly, feeling an unfamiliar warmth in his arms. Belle. He remembered slowly. Belle had come to him last night, trembling with the cold of some nightmare, though she would not tell him what it was.

He did not blame her. He, too, had dreams. He, too, did not wish to speak of them. What comfort there was here, he mused silently. What warmth and sweet delight.

As Belle began to stir in his arms, he whispered softly in her ear.

_O, how thy worth with manners may I sing,_  
_When thou art all the better part of me?_  
_What can mine own praise to mine own self bring?_  
_And what is 't but mine own when I praise thee?_

__  
__  


__Belle turned to face him, her eyes blinking open softly._ _

__"Hmm?" she whispered. Adam kissed her lips gently and watched her cheeks blush the delicate pink he loved so much._ _

__"You stayed," he observed._ _

__"I shouldn't have," she answered. "Very improper." She smiled impishly at him, knowing no one would really care. There would be no virginal blood on the sheets. They had not engaged in sex, but merely slept in each other's arms, each taking comfort from the warmth of the other. Adam smoothed her hair from her face and leaned over her, taking care to protect her from feeling his arousal at the nearness of her slender form. There were lines he would not cross with her. Not yet. Their wedding loomed ever nearer and he would cherish her as one ought to cherish a born princess. She might not have wealth or title, but she had all the manner and sweetness of a princess. She had all the goodness of one._ _

__He stroked his fingers through her hair, enraptured by the softness of it. It had always felt soft to him, even when he had been a beast. But now that he was human again, it felt a hundred times softer. On an impulse, he lifted it to his nose and breathed in the honey and jasmine scent of it._ _

__Belle wrinkled her nose and quirked one corner of her lips in a teasing smile._ _

__"Are you smelling me?" She asked incredulously. Adam would have been embarrassed, if he wasn't too busy being enchanted by her beauty._ _

__"Mmmmm," he responded. "You have always smelled so sweet. Like jasmine and honey, sunshine and soap, and something that is just precious and uniquely you." He felt her hands on his chest and all the muscles in his body hardened at the sensation. Her delicate fingers began tracing circles over the muscles of his arms. Adam swallowed the groan that threatened to burst out of him. She felt so good, so right in his arms. He would lay here with her forever if he could._ _

__"Dear Belle," he said softly, unable to keep the desire out of his voice. "I think…" he paused. "The comfort of nighttime is one thing, but mornings I fear could be trouble."_ _

__"Trouble," she questioned, her voice full of false innocence, even as she let her fingers trail up his shoulders to his long hair that fell around his face. "Do you want me to leave?"_ _

__God no!_ _

__"That might be for the best," he agreed. "For now," he quickly added. Belle smiled at him, stroking her fingers through his hair one more time._ _

__"Thank you," she whispered softly, kissing his lips. "For last night, I mean."_ _

__"Take my robe," Adam suggested. "The halls are cold in the morning." He held her hand and kissed her fingertips as she left his bed. "I'll see you at breakfast."_ _

__Belle smiled gently as she threw on Adam's robe and went to the door. She was almost there when she turned suddenly and without warning ran back to him. Throwing her arms fiercely around his neck, she whispered in his ear._ _

__"I love you!"_ _


	3. Chapter 3

Belle sat wrapped in Adam's robe and her own blankets, inhaling the deep masculine scent of him. For all she had teased him about smelling her, she found she could not help but do the same. It was lavender from his washbasin, musk, soap, and something else. Something rich and earthy that reminded her of him before his change. She sat with her arms folded around her knees, deep in thought, and did not hear when Plumette opened her bedchamber door to attend her morning toilette.

She startled at the other woman's soft and amused "ahem".

"Bonjour, mademoiselle," she said lightly. "I see you slept well?" There was teasing note to Plumette's voice that Belle did not miss, and her thoughts returned to what Adam had said last night.

The servants will talk, she had said to him. They already do, was his reply. Did they really? Did they think that she and Adam did…that? Belle blushed.

"Oh, m'mselle," Plumette teased. "You do not need to blush with me. We are both women in love with our men. We do what women in love do. It is natural. Women have been doing it long before our time and shall continue it long after we are gone, oui?" Belle sighed.

"Oui. Yes. I mean, no. I mean," Belle exhaled again and Plumette caught the mood of her young friend.

"What is it, ma cherie?" she asked softly, sitting on the edge of Belle's bed, taking the younger woman's hands in hers. "I am your femme de chambre. This means you may tell me anything and I will keep it in strictest confidence. On my heart's honour. I won't even tell Lumiere, I swear it." There was still a light in Plumette's eyes and a smile in her voice, but a sincerity that Belle needed in that moment. She laid her head on the older woman's bosom.

"Of course I was with Adam last night," she acknowledged. "But not," she paused. "Not like that" Belle laid her head on her arms across her knees as she gazed at Plumette and continued.

"I dream Plumette. Horrible, wretched dreams. And when I woke last night I was so cold and lonely. I needed his warmth and his strength. I could hardly make it through the night without him." Plumette tilted Belle's chin up and touched her nose with one long, elegant finger.

"Then it is good you went to him, oui?" She smiled. "Our men like to feel strong. They like to feel needed. And Lumiere tells me the Master still dreams, too. Wretched, horrid ones, I expect. I imagine one cannot die without dreaming of death for a time afterwards. And you watched him do it, too. I do not envy you that. We all must find comfort where we can." Belle did not miss the haunted look in her friend's eyes, and she knew that she was not alone. It was a horrible burden they all shared. Plumette tapped Belle on the knee as she stood up.

"Come, come now. We must get you dressed to breakfast with monsieur le prince and your good papa. You tell me of your worries while we do this, yes?" Plumette busied herself around the chamber, pouring rosewater in the small basin for Belle to wash her face and laying out clothes for the morning. Belle could not help but smile. All the servants in the castle had troubles of their own, but their cheerfulness was infectious.

"Plumette, may I ask you something?" Belle asked, as she sat at her table and sponged her face and neck.

"But of course, ma cherie," Plumette chirped happily.

"You have been with Lumiere for a long time, have you not?" Belle paused, and then clarified. "As a woman, I mean." Plumette smiled.

"Oh yes. He is a tender and generous man." She hugged Belle's day dress close to her dreamily before holding it out to Belle to take. And then she pretended to frown. "And you may not have him!" Belle laughed.

"I am very content with my Adam," she smiled. "No, I just…" It was a very delicate question and one with which Belle had no experience. It wasn't like a math problem to be solved or a book to be read. She hardly knew where to begin even asking. "You see," she started over. "It's just that I,"

"You are still a virgin," Plumette declared. It wasn't a question.

"Well, yes." Belle responded.

"And you wish to rectify this!" Plumette guessed.

"Well, not rectify. Exactly," Belle wrinkled her brow slightly. It wasn't that being a virgin was a problem, precisely. "It's just that, well. Adam seems so, well," she paused again. She was rarely so much at a loss for words.

"Hesitant?" Plumette guessed. "Shy? Uncertain?" She paused, and then with a teasing note added "Frightened?"

"Yes!" That was it! "Frightened! And I am, too, I suppose. But he's the one with all the experience. I was rather hoping he would take charge. And he hasn't!"

"Ah, ma cherie," Plumette continued, tying Belle's stays and slipping her day dress over her head. "He was a very different man when he had, as you call it, his 'experience'. And 'experience' is not love. He loves you! He wants to cherish you and honor you. You have never been with a man before. He is afraid, I think, of hurting you." Belle was surprised.

"Hurting me! Why would he be afraid of that?"

"It hurts a little the first time for a woman," Plumette said honestly, turning Belle to face the mirror and smoothing her hair around her dress. "This is normal, expected. If a man really loves a woman, he may be a little frightened of the pain he may cause her. You may need to be a little bold. Or, just wait. Your wedding is soon enough. You go to breakfast now. Your prince is waiting for you."

Belle walked to breakfast slowly. She had much to think about. A plan began to turn over in her head. They were engaged, but truly, what would stop them from a visit to Pere Robert this afternoon? Did a wedding have to be a big affair? Would that help eliminate some of Adam's fright?

Could she be a little bold?

Belle smiled. She thought she could. After all, what was boldness if not determinedness in another form. And she was nothing if not determined.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've made a (possibly erroneous) assumption that the enchantress Agathe is St Agatha. This, combined with the opening scene of the movie, is letting me assume a darker backstory for Adam.

Adam could not help but notice that Belle seemed distracted through breakfast, speaking little and eating less. She blushed very prettily when Maurice asked her how she slept, and he hoped her papa did not notice that little detail. How lovely she looked this morning, he mused.

It was some time later that she found him in the library. He had been there looking for her.

"I've been all over the castle looking for you," she said softly as she came up behind him, slipping her slender arms about his waist. He moaned softly at the delicious feel of slim, soft form against his. He didn't think he would ever tire of it. Not when she was round with his child. Not when they were very old with grey heads. She felt different to him now. The same, but different. His body reacted to her, hardening at her softness. He turned to face her and, cupping her chin in his hands, kissed her pink lips.

"I've been all over the library looking for you, my love," he answered. "You were distracted at breakfast. Are you alright?" Belle threw her arms around his neck.

"Marry me!" She said! Adam could not help but laugh. He had already asked and she had already said yes.

"I believe that is the plan, my dear! One month from Sunday if I am not mistaken." Belle shook her head.

"No," she smiled up at him charmingly and his heart was utterly won again. "Marry me today! Marry me now! Let's go to the village! Right now! Today! Let us have Pere Robert marry us in secret now! And I will spend tonight with you and ever night with you." She kissed him then. "I don't want to wait anymore!" Adam pulled back with a frown, lifting her arms off his neck.

"Is this about last night?" he asked. "Or is this about this morning?" Belle sighed in frustration.

"You won't touch me like a woman," she spoke truthfully, blushing as she looked away. She turned then and met his gaze squarely, deliberately, stubbornly and evenly. Her voice was determined and firm and bold and everything he loved about her. "Or rather, you do, but not in all of the ways I want to be touched. I want you to, you know." She paused again, and he let her words sink in. "I want you to touch me. Like that, I mean. Like a woman. I've never been held the way you hold me. I've never been kissed the way you kiss me. I want it all. **_Everything_** a man does with a woman he loves. I want you to educate me."

Belle moved closer to him and he shied away. He wondered if she knew what she was asking of him. Kisses were one thing, but this… he'd done this, before. He felt slightly sick, panicked at the thought of sullying her like that. Of using her like that. Of taking his own pleasure on her like that.

"Belle," he spoke softly.

"I want you, Adam," she said again. "And if it's my reputation you're afraid of, well, let's put that behind us right now. Let us go to the Monseigneur and have done with it. Marry me today and bed me tonight." She placed her hands on his chest and looked up at him, so precious and hopeful. Delightful and charming and willing and soft and feminine and bold. And in that moment, Adam wanted to run. He wanted to run far and hide away. He took her hands in his and swallowed, grasping for words.

"Oh Belle," he said again. "I wish it were that simple."

"Isn't it?" she asked. Was it, he wondered.

"Is it?" he asked her. "You know," he said slowly. "I was not a good man. Before, I mean. I used women terribly. I don't like to think of it. You are pure to me. You are all that is sweet and good in my world. When I am with you, I feel…" he paused, seeking the right words, not wanting to shock her with his bluntness. "I feel like a man! I feel like a man ought to feel with a woman he loves."

"And I would have it so!" she declared. "Are you frightened? Of hurting me, I mean?"

"That's part of it," he said honestly. "But not just physically. Emotionally, too. And spiritually. You are all that is dear and good and sweet to me. You are my saviour in so many ways, you know." He stroked her face softly and hoped she could understand. "It's not about marriage. Half the village probably assumes you share my bed. Good god, your own father probably assumes you share my bed. What is marriage but a formality to say that you are mine and I am yours and our children are my heirs? What is it but a legality to make all I have yours by the law?" He felt a great lump rise in his throat and he forced it back with a deep and heavy breath. "Dear Belle," He closed his eyes and laid his forehead against hers.

"I was not a _good_ man, Belle." He held her tighter, then, selfishly willing her strength into himself. He did not deserve her. "I was not a good man."

He buried his face in her neck and wept.


	5. Chapter 5

Belle let Adam lift her up in his arms and carry her to their favorite armchair by the large fireplace near the south wall of the library. He sat, still shaken and clutched her to his chest.

"Forgive me, love," he said softly, seeming ashamed of his weakness. "You must think me a terrible fool. You ask me to wed you and bed you today and I burst into tears like a 12 year old girl." Belle stroked his hair softly and fingered the rough stubble where his whiskers were beginning to grow in.

"You're not a fool," she contradicted, but she frowned in thought as she pondered his words. "Still, I must ask you. And you must answer me truthfully. Know that I love you, now and always. Know that I know you are not the same man that you were then. But I must know, please. Have you ever taken a woman against her will?" Belle was suddenly afraid of his answer. His beautiful blue eyes held such deep sorrow in them.

"I don't know," he whispered softly. "It's strange answer, I know!" he added quickly. "After all, how can a man not know? But you see, love, I am prince." He sighed and shook his head, pursing his lips in contemplation. "I truly do not think I took a woman against her will. Women came to me because I am a prince. There was never a marriage of love and lust. You want me to teach you the pleasures of the flesh. I think I must have been a terribly evil man, for as much as I know of how to achieve my own pleasure, I am afraid I know nothing of a woman's pleasure. I never cared to learn."

Belle watched as the guilt consumed her love anew. She wanted to stop it as she watched wave upon wave of it crash upon his soul. She said nothing for a time, though. He was right, he hadn't been a good man. But he had changed. Oh, how he had changed!

"You were not a good man," she finally said to him, stroking his face and making him look at her. "But you are a good man **_now_**. Few men have the courage to face their past, fewer still to change their ways. You have done both. You have fought a great battle of the soul and done much penance for the sins of your past. You know **_now_** the difference between right and wrong. And I promise you one thing," she smiled a wicked smile. "You **_will_** learn of a woman's pleasure, for I will not leave your bed nor allow you to leave mine without achieving all the pleasure there is to be had."

Adam gazed into her eyes and she was swept away by the passion she saw there. She felt his hand upon her calf under her skirt and thrilled to his touch.

"May I?" he asked in a deep husky voice? Belle found her voice had fled and so nodded. His hand skimmed higher to her thigh, skirting the lace edge of her drawers. She inhaled sharply. For all she had grown accustomed to his hands in her hair, on her neck, skimming her shoulders, and touching her waist, this was an entirely new sensation. She liked this.

Something that felt like wet fire bloomed between her legs.

"Adam?" she panted, hardly able to find her voice. "Is this the best place for such things?"

His breath was hot and heavy on her neck.

"Mmmm," he groaned in reply. "Not at all. Should I stop?"

"No," her whisper came out more like a squeak. "God no."

"Is this what you wanted, love?" he asked. "Is this how you wanted me to touch you?" Belle nodded against his neck, overwhelmed with sensation. The fire was spreading up through her belly, curling wicked tendrils into her arms and legs. Soon, she was sure, she would feel like jelly, unable to move or think or breathe.

His fingers skimmed higher to the place where her drawers parted, touching the soft curls he found there. His other hand grasped her waist tightly. She could feel the impossible length of him straining against his breeches and she moved her hands down to explore him, only to be stopped by his tight grip on her wrist.

"I beg you, love, don't," he breathed. "I have known enough of pleasure. Let me give this to you. Let me learn your pleasure. Let me give and please and find my penance in your ecstasy."

Belle smiled a wicked smile down at him.

"Take me to your bed, then, for god's sake. I would not have my father find us here." Adam groaned.

"Nor I," he agreed.


	6. Chapter 6

Belle moaned as Adam removed his fingers from the soft place between her legs. He felt her lips graze his neck as she bit and teased his earlobe. He wondered if all women knew instinctively how to kiss a man in such a way as to make him desire her. Was it something they were born with? Some God-given blessing or hell-wrought curse?

The turmoil he felt inside was unlike anything he’d ever felt as a beast. Then, without the possibility of this, he’d had at least some semblance of peace. Oh, he’d passed many nights with dreams and fantasies of her soft caresses. But when there was no hope of fulfillment, he could face her at ease. When he was yet a beast, dreams remained dreams, and fantasies were only that. Now, as a man, he felt less certain than ever before.

Had he been honest with Belle?

He had never had a woman come to him like this. Never before had a woman chased him. Always he had chased, thrilled in the hunt. Women came to him because of his wealth and status and handsome face. They came seeking him out as a husband and bedded him hoping to find his favor. They bedded him as a pawn in a game of politics and intrigue. He did not mind, so long as his own pleasure was found. He had never, in all of his life, heard the word no said to him. Was that enough to ease his conscience? What once had seemed so clear was now so muddy and dark. 

And could he give her what she deserved? Or would she be sullied by the politics of the French court. She was strong enough, or so it seemed, not to care. 

They slipped quietly through the halls, not speaking. Adam could feel Belle’s beautiful, watchful gaze. The air between them crackled with unspoken excitement. Soon enough, they found themselves in Belle’s bedchambers. The tower was taller, the room itself closer. Belle closed and locked the door, and Adam caged her in his arms.

“What now, love,” she whispered, excitement and something else tinging her voice.

“Now,” he answered. “Now, we move very slowly.” He laid one arm on her shoulder and gently pushed aside the collar of her dress, kissing the smooth, sweet place where her neck curved into her shoulder. “Now I kiss you.” He kissed her jaw. “Now I touch you.” He stroked one finger, feather-light down her other arm. “Now you tell me what you need.” He kissed her lips.

Belle shook her head at him slightly. “I haven’t the vaguest clue what I need. Only that I like what you are doing now. And I liked what you did in the library.” 

“Then you must tell me when you like what I do. And tell me when you do not like what I do. I beg you, be honest with me always. Tell me when you do not like what I do and I will stop.” He continued to kiss her then. Belle placed her hands on his chest and pushed him back slightly.

“No?” he asked.

“Well,” she answered. “I think all these clothes might get in the way,” she said with a smile.

“Ah,” he responded. “Yes, I much prefer kissing you in your undergarments.” He smiled softly at her, remembering that moment upon waking, and seeing her there. She had been brilliant and beautiful, and very nearly naked. “You have no idea how much that picture torments me in my sleep,” he husked.

“Oh dear!” she responded. “Is it that bad?” She looked at him, her eyes wide. Adam felt a pit in his gut. 

“Oh no, love, I didn’t mean…” Why was he so bad with words now? Why now, when poetry was needed, did only folly come out? But Belle only laughed at him, kissing him through her laughter. 

“I know what you meant. I could feel your desire when you held me in the morning. God, I could feel your desire when you kissed me in the rain.” She looked at him gently then, stroking his hair, loosing the double curls he wore at the sides of his hair.

“I loathe these,” she whispered. “I know they are fashionable and proper and you cannot wear your hair loose when you are out of doors, but I like your hair loose.” Belle reached back and untied the bow at the nape of his neck. “And I loathe this,” she continued, stroking his hair around his shoulders. “You look old and stiff and entirely too proper with it.”

“Too proper?” Adam asked. He was unsure whether to be amused or offended. Belle began pushing him backwards toward her bed as she loosed his cravat and began unbuttoning his waistcoat.

“Very, very proper. Madame du Garderobe keeps trying to stuff me into stiff, fancy dresses with corsets made for tiny waists and layers upon layers upon god-forsaken layers of skirts.” She looked at him very seriously. “You’ll never be able to reach me under all those skirts.”

“That would never do! Shall I have a word with her?” Adam teased, straddling Belle on his lap as they sat upon the edge of her bed.

“Oh, I think I’m holding my own,” she responded lightly, loosening her own dress and pulling it over her head. “Stays and bloomers, see?” She said proudly. Something feral and wicked rose up in Adam’s chest and for a moment he thought his Beast might burst forth again he emitted a deep growl that sounded more animal than man. He felt Belle shiver in his arms.

“I like when you do that,” she admitted.

“Do what?” he asked. “This?” he growled again, nipping gently at her earlobe, feeling her shudder in his arms as she took a deep, shaky breath. Something occurred to him then, something new and strange. “You liked me then.” He pulled back and looked at her eyes, now glazed with desire. “Loved me, even.”

“I did,” she answered. “I like you better now,” she said quickly, but paused. “But sometimes, something of the beast I knew is still there. It excites me in a way I never thought possible. It’s very strange and rather unnerving. After all, we couldn’t have done this. But you are still wild, sometimes, and it is exciting.”

Adam let that sink in. 

“What do I do now?” he asked softly, as he moved them further to the center of the bed and lay Belle down among the pillows and blankets. He began to softly trace circles on her ankles, moving slowly up her calves. He felt emboldened by her soft moans of pleasure and began to replace his fingers with his lips as he reached her thighs.

Belle nearly leapt off the bed as he began to untie her drawers and kiss the milky white skin of her thighs.

“Do you not like that?” he asked in a deep, husky voice. She moaned and threw her head back down. 

“You’ve got too many clothes on,” she complained. He quickly rid himself of all but his own soft underbreeches and shirt. “Still too much,” she said, reaching to remove his shirt.

“Can I go back to kissing you, now?” he asked, teasingly. Belle nodded, and Adam started higher this time, beginning with her beautiful pale shoulders, and loosening her stays to free her beautiful bosom as he moved down her body.

His fingers skimmed over her hips and thighs while his lips kissed and teased her beautiful, soft breasts. He was beguiled by her moans of ecstasy, even as he held back his own pleasure. He kissed and nipped and caressed his way softly down to the place where her legs parted. 

“May I try something?” he asked very softly. Belle whispered her assent. “It is what a woman does for a man. I am not sure the pleasure works in reverse, but everything else seems to be working. Please tell me if it does not feel right.” Belle nodded vigorously, and Adam could feel her stomach trembling under his fingertips. He slowly removed her drawers and parted her curls with his long, tapered fingers.

Very gently, praying he did not hurt her, he slipped one finger inside her slick folds and brushed aside the soft curls so he could kiss and lick and tease the soft, tender center of her. She cried out, and he stilled.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked, softly.

“No,” she cried. “God, no. Please don’t stop.” So he continued as he had before, using her thrusts and moans as his guide until he felt her tense around him, clenching his finger. She cried out and grabbed a hold of him and he stopped at once.

“Belle?” He felt her pulling him upwards toward her and he went willingly. “Belle?” he asked again. There were tears in her eyes and her breath came in sharp unsteady pants. She seemed unable to speak, but only let out sharp cries when she tried. He wiped the moisture from his hands on the sheets before brushing his fingers over her cheeks.

“Oh god,” she said at last, shuddering against him. He realized with some deep primal contentment that pleasure for a woman was _exactly_ like it was for a man. He groaned with pleasure and need and feral satisfaction as he held her.

Pride was a sin. One of the deadliest, he knew. He’d been punished for it before. But surely a little pride right now wouldn’t go amiss?


	7. Chapter 7

_Adam felt Belle stretch luxuriously in his arms. He gloried in the pleasure he had brought to her, fully satisfied in the sensation of having done right by her. He knew that a woman’s first time was supposed to hurt. It was a thing he’d never given much thought to before, but a thing that now seemed terribly unfair to him. Why should a woman carry all the pain in life? Surely women were not truly to blame for all the evils in the world? His world was larger than hers and in the men in it were such wretched creatures. He knew far more pious, tender women than men._

_He reached to brush a lock of hair from her face and balked at the sight of his hands. Gone were the pale tapered fingers of a prince. In their place, he saw his beastly claws once more. The sweet face of Belle evaporated before him and darkness and dust was left in its place. Sunlight turned to ashen night, and the glory turned cold in his chest._

_Anguish slashed through him as the face of an old woman loomed over his bed._

_“A beast you once were,” she said, in her broken old voice. “And a beast you shall ever remain.”_

_He roared in torment, the sins of a thousand generations lacerating his soul, as he bled on the cold stone floor. It was no less than he deserved._

* * *

He woke with a roar and a shudder to find Belle clutching at him. Ice pierced his chest and he wanted to vomit from the empty, sour, all consuming panic in his gut. Still, she brushed sweat dampened hair from his face as she soothed him and pulled his head to her breast.

She did not ask him what he dreamed of. He knew she dreamed, too. He wondered if it would ever end. He supposed one could not live through such as they had without such consequences. He had died a beast. She had watched him do it. He wasn’t as strong as he’d always pleased himself to think he was. They had died. All of them had. His servants, his friends, everyone he had ever loved. They had all died. They had been reborn, but rebirth did not erase death fully. They still remembered it. All of it. All of them did.

“Thank you,” he whispered into the soft crook of her neck, as they lay together, tangled in the warm sheets.

“Always,” she answered, cradling him close to her. “You do it for me. It’s what people in love do.” He kissed her, then, a soft kiss, not meant to inspire lovemaking, but to convey the depths of affection he felt for her.

“What do you dream of?” he asked her, at last. “Or is it something you don’t wish to talk about?”

“Death,” she answered bluntly, turning away from him. He was hardly surprised.

“I dream I am a beast again. I dream that you are gone and all the world is cold and nightmarish.” He sighed as he felt her embrace.

“I’ll never leave again,” she said. “Not if I can help it. And I would love you even if you were a beast.”

“But you couldn’t make love to me,” he said. “And I do love the way you touch me,” he kissed her lips. “And kiss me.”

“I kissed you,” Belle answered. Adam was confused. He knew she kissed him after he transformed. “I was too late. You wouldn’t remember. But I kissed you. And were you unchanged. And I would kiss you again.” There was a long pause before Belle continued. “I don’t know about the rest of it, but I think…” Belle let her sentence hang and was silent then.

Adam stared at her in wonder and horror and fascination and uncertainty.

“I, uhm,” he paused. “I don’t know what to say.” He was fascinated with the deepening blush on Belle’s cheeks as she refused to meet his gaze. “Oh, my god,” he exclaimed. “You’re quite serious, aren’t you?” Belle still refused to meet his gaze.

“Am I utterly perverted? Are you repulsed by me?” Adam still could not speak. Some sort of shameful lust began to grab hold of him. “You really were more man than beast, you know,” she tried to argue, finally looking at him. Tears glittered in her eyes and he began to see that these feelings had tormented her. She did not know what to do with them.

“How?” he asked. "How could you see me like that?"

“A beast cannot make conversation, cannot read or quote poetry. A beast cannot speak of love and history, teach mathematics or latin, or converse in languages. A beast does not care, does not give of himself in generosity. A beast does not empathize, does not dance, does not live as you lived. If you were an animal, then so was I, and so what difference would it make, as we were both the same. You were just… hairier?” Adam was moved by her description of him. He had not seen himself that way. She had made him feel more human, more alive, but he truly had not seen himself as a man.

“Your lips,” she continued, touching his lips softly. “Your lips are the same now. Full and sweet and lovely. They were a man’s lips, even in your broader face. Your eyes,” she touched the outer corners of his eyes, “are the same now. Still blue like the summer sky. I would have kissed you, even had you not been dying. I would kiss you again, even with the same face.”

“Is that why you asked me to grow a beard?” Adam mused softly. “Do you miss his face?” 

“There is no his,” Belle denied. “No ‘him’. ‘He’ is not separate from you. You mustn’t think of the beast that way or you will never heal. ‘He’ is you and you are ‘he’ and you are one and the same and always will be. You’ll always be my beast, and I will always love you for it. I’ll always love that wild untamed part of you. And yes. Sometimes I miss your other face. I fell in love with that face. Does that make me odd?” Belle looked utterly and preciously vulnerable in his arms and Adam leaned down to kiss her fully and firmly on the mouth.

“Wild and untamed?” he asked, teasingly. Belle moaned softly in agreement.

“Very wild,” she agreed, moving seductively under him. 

“Then I shall always be your beast,” Adam agreed, finding a peace in the words he did not think he would ever feel. “Yours, and yours alone.” The remainder of Belle’s unfinished sentence hung in the back of Adam’s mind. She didn’t know about the rest of it, but… But what?

“Belle,” he breathed softly. She answered with a soft noise of acknowledgment. “What did you mean by you don’t know about the rest of it, ‘but…’?” There was silence and Belle was utterly still beneath him. Even her breathing had stilled. Adam began to regret asking. “Belle?” he eventually prompted?

Belle exhaled and the sound was weary and worried and sad.

“Please Belle,” Adam told her, his heart clenching at the concern emanating off her. “If something is troubling you, please tell me. We, each of us, have enough burdens to bear without making new ones or trying to carry them on our own. I will not judge you, for I feel as though I know where your thoughts lie. Still, I would like to hear you say it. I think I need to hear you say it.” He felt hers muscles loosen, as though she’d let go of some mighty weight.

“I keep trying to convince myself that I never would have lain with you as a beast. That I am only here now because you are a man. But,” she paused and the silence was utterly pregnant with implication. “I don’t know if that is true and it speaks to something dark and terrifying in me.” Adam watched Belle lick her lips, struggling for words. “By the time you freed me, I was already free, though I didn’t know it. By the time I made it to my father, I knew how much I loved and needed you. By the time I saw you on the turret, I knew I would spend all of my life with you, regardless of your eternal outward shape. And spending all my life with you," Belle again did not finish her sentence.

There was another long and length silence, and Adam allowed Belle to gather her thoughts into words, curious to know what she would say. Already, she had gifted him with more peace than his transformation had. 

“The night we danced,” Belle paused and smiled. Adam smiled too, pulling her closer to him as he laid on side near her and remembered. It had been glorious. “Your hands were all over me. It felt amazing, better than it had any right to. And I was aroused by the feel of it. And I could not believe such a thing was even possible. It was such a foreign sensation to me. Had you kissed me, right there on the dance floor, I would have let you. You felt so deliciously large and formidable in my arms. I felt so delicate and utterly safe. And I replay that night over and over again in my mind. Each time, the fantasy progresses a little further.” Belle leaned into Adam then. She began to shake a little, and Adam realized she was crying.

“I think I must be very wrong, somehow,” she sighed. “And yet I love you so deliciously and truly. I loved you then and I love you now.”

Adam did not answer her, but simply held her close, willing the strength he did not possess into the very essence of her being. She would ever be his beauty and he would ever be her beast. Right or wrong, it did not matter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Song of Solomon ch2v3 "I sat down under his shadow, whom I desired: and his fruit was sweet to my palate." I am quoting from the latin vulgate, as that seems a likely translation for a highly educated nobleman to have in his library in the mid-17th century. He probably owned a French bible, too, but Latin makes it sound like Belle is casting devious spells.

Belle laid with her head on Adam's chest for a time in the still darkness, tracing circles over his chest in the moonlight. In the two weeks since she had told him of her need for his touch, he had obliged her, but only to her own pleasure – never to his. She knew why, at least to some extent. It left her feeling frustrated with him.

"Sub umbra illius quam desideraveram sedi et fructus eius dulcis gutturi meo."

"Are you casting spells?" Adam asked her, looking down at her as she whispered the words softly.

"No," she laughed. "I am surprised you do not recognize that one. It is from your own bible in your library, after all."

"Ah," he said, understanding in his voice. "That is why I do not recognize it. I haven't read it in many years."

"J`ai désiré m`asseoir à son ombre, et son fruit est doux à mon palais," Belle continued.

"Mmmm," replied Adam softly and playfully. "I like this Bible of yours. Tell me more about this fruit."

"You have done a thing to me, and told me it something a woman does for a man," Belle began to explain, letting her fingers circle lower, tracing the dip of her lover's navel and the slope of his hipbone. She could feel his jutting hardness, but delicately avoided it for now, knowing he would stop her if she strayed too close. "I would like to do it for you." Belle could feel Adam's breath quicken, even as his body stilled. She gripped him gently, then, before he could pull away, softly, lightly, and leaned over to kiss his lips. She met his eyes with what she desperately hoped was a seductive and alluring gaze.

Adam shook his head at her slightly and placed one hand on her wrist. She covered his lips with one finger before he could speak.

"I know why you do it. At least a little of why you do it. Don't make me your penance, Adam! We cannot be equals if I am your penance. I want to be your lover, not your angel or your saviour. A woman does not like to be a man's penance! You've loved me very thoroughly and left me extremely satisfied. Would you let me? Please?"

Adam groaned in what sounded like agony.

"Is that a yes?" she teased, flicking his bottom lip with her fingernail, even as she stroked his hard length with her other hand.

"You'll be the death of me, love. I'm trying so very hard to be good." Adam closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Belle's waist, flipping her under him. His long hair flowed around him, ticking her jaw. It was intoxicating, but she would not let herself be distracted.

"I don't want you to be good," she whispered. "Be wild for me. Let me taste you like you have tasted me. Let me do this for you!" Adam lay still, and Belle watched as he wrestled with himself. He spoke, finally, gasping even as he did, as she continued to stroke the length of him with soft, smooth motions.

"It is how I took my pleasure on whores, Belle." He moaned softly again as she continued to torment him, licking and kissing along his neck and jawline. "You are not a whore. You are," he gasped again, as she teased the tip of him with her fingers.

"I'm what?" she questioned teasingly.

"Precious," he moaned.

"And?" she prompted.

"Good." She continued to use her hands, and could sense that she was winning the battle over Adam's self-control. It felt tantalizing and divine. She could feel his soft huffs of breath against her neck, could feel the tremors in his muscles as she ran her fingers up and down the length of him, imagining what a woman's most intimate place must feel like and trying to mimic the sensation.

"What else am I?" she husked, her voice unexpectedly low and throaty to her own ears, yet sensing his need to still somehow make this about her.

"You're kind and sweet and," Adam paused and shuddered as Belle lifted one hand to her mouth. It occurred to her that if she was going to mimic such intimacies with her hands, some moisture might aid the illusion. She licked a long path along her palm. "Angels and demons, so beautiful," Adam cried as she returned her hand to its work.

"And you are my beast, and I would have my wild beast return to me, love. Not this tame substitute you have given me. I would have you unleash yourself upon me. Be wild with me. Don't be a prince, but be my lover instead. Make me safe in your shadow and whole in your arms. Join me in the heights of heaven. Don't leave me there alone."

"Unless you want a mess in the sheets, you need to stop, love!" Adam cried in torment, pulling her hands off him. A fierce, carnal look of possession filled his eyes as he held her wrists down, pinning her down, their breaths coming in sharp ragged peaks. Deep satisfaction welled up inside Belle. She had done this. She had brought him to this edge. It was the work of her own hands, and with a featherlight touch, she knew she could push him over it. She felt a deep and delicious thrill race through her, a carnal cry of possession that rang through her body as she gazed up at him.

He was hers. He was hers and she was his.

"I can pleasure you without being a whore," she breathed softly. "And I very, very much do not wish to stop right now."

Adam whimpered, even as he collapsed, and in that moment, Belle knew she had won.

"Say yes," she whispered. "I won't presume, just as you never presume. Say yes and I will finish or no and I will stop."

"Yes." The single word ripped from Adam's throat in the familiar deep growl that made liquid fire erupt deep inside Belle. Belle pushed him onto his back as she set to work. It was an entirely unfamiliar task, and she had only the familiarity of what he'd done to her to base her assumptions on.

"Help me," she breathed. "Teach me." He took her hand in his and guided her then, and the growl that erupted from him as she took him into her mouth was positively feral. It was very short work for him to find his pleasure in her like this. When he neared the end, he removed himself, spilling himself into his own hand so he could wash it away in the washbasin.

He positively leapt on her as she waited for him in their bed, gathering her into his arms and kissing her ferociously. Belle fell back, giggling.

"Did you enjoy that?" she asked, knowing full well he did. He nipped at her lips in response.

"I shall bring you to such delicious heights of heaven, woman, you shall see the stars!" he growled, nuzzling and nipping her neck. Belle thrilled to the sound of his voice, husky and raw with pleasure, so unlike her prince of the last few weeks. This was her beast, unreserved and unrefined. Refined was for the ballroom. Here she wanted his heart, raw and passionate. And he gave it to her.

Perhaps there was hope after all.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The work being quoted is "Symposium" by Plato, 360BCE.

Belle’s studies did not end when life in the castle changed. As days passed, she continued passing her days much as she had before, reading everything she could, working her way through the library, filling her eager mind with every bit of knowledge she could absorb. Adam was as enchanted by this as he had ever been before – moreso, now, that he had begun to lay aside some of his insecurities. 

He found her whispering to herself in her great armchair by the south wall of the library. Their armchair, he liked to think of it, by their wall. He came up behind her softly, so as not to disturb her.

“ _Love will make men dare to die for their beloved-love alone; and women as well as men. Of this, Alcestis, the daughter of Pelias, is a monument to all Hellas; for she was willing to lay down her life on behalf of her husband, when no one else would,_ ” she whispered softly, tracing the words with her slim fingers, even as she read them. Adam reached over her and placed his hands over hers as he found her place and continued.

“ _And so noble did this action of hers appear to the gods, as well as to men, that among the many who have done virtuously she is one of the very few to whom, in admiration of her noble action, they have granted the privilege of returning alive to earth._ ” Belle smiled up at him softly.

“Do you think that is why Agathe returned you to me after death?” she whispered? “For love’s sake? For the purity of your love?” Adam came around the chair and, lifting her up, pulled her into his lap as he took his seat, kissing her softly as he did so. The notion unsettled him for some reason he could not put a finger on.

“Now who is placing whom upon a pedestal?” he teased.

“It is not a pedestal!” she argued, placing one hand upon her hip, thrusting her bosom out becomingly as she did so. “I’m quite serious! After all, what is magic but the unexplainable? And if Alcestis was returned for such selfless love, why not you?” Adam sighed.

“Because I am not Alcestis,” he said softly. 

“You were never selfless in your love for me?” Belle challenged. Adam felt a lump in his throat. “When you set me free to go to my father’s aid, that wasn’t selfless?”

“You were already free. You hadn’t been my prisoner for a long time and we both know it,” he answered, stroking the curved of her neck and the soft lines of her collarbone.

“Until you’d said the words, though, I didn’t fully realize it. And you could have held me back. You could have kissed me at any time. You could have told me how to break the curse and I would have tried,” Adam shook his head.

“You had to love me for yourself. If I’d told you or if any of the staff had told you how to break the curse, it would not have been the same. You had to love me for yourself and for who I was, as I was. It still amazes me that you ever could.”

“ _Evil is the vulgar lover who loves the body rather than the soul, inasmuch as he is not even stable, because he loves a thing which is in itself unstable, and therefore when the bloom of youth which he was desiring is over, he takes wing and flies away, in spite of all his words and promises; whereas the love of the noble disposition is life-long, for it becomes one with the everlasting._ ” Belle smiled and kissed Adam’s now neatly groomed and bearded jaw, stroking the short hairs with her fingers. “That sounds right. I think I like Plato.”

Adam blew air out from his lips in a slightly childish gesture. “You would,” he complained.

“It makes sense to me. It helps explain to me how I could love you so much then and love you so much now. Because you’ve been the same to me. It’s your soul I love, your noble disposition. And you've always loved me for my mind, encouraged my learning, never treated me as an object,” she complimented him with a smile.

After a time Adam grinned wickedly and begin to plant delicate nipping kisses along the nape of her neck, stroking his fingers through her hair and pulling it back to take deep, delectable breaths of her honey and jasmine scent.

“No, I think must be very vulgar and ignoble, then,” he murmured, teasing the back of her neck with his tongue. “For I find I love your body quite immeasurably.” He smiled as the apple blossom blush returned to Belle’s cheeks. Blowing soft, warm breaths below her ear, he continued. “I find that I love the soft, delicious curve of your hips and the sweet, supple flesh of your belly. I love the round, firm peaks of your breasts and the delicate, soft column of your neck.” Belle moaned softly.

The clock chimed in the north side of the library, and Adam growled softly.

“But,” he whispered, kissing her one last time, as he removed her from his lap. “If I do not leave now, I fear Lumiere will come in search of me, and I doubt either of us want that.” Belle blinked up at him.

“Lumiere?” She questioned.

“He needs to stick me with pins and needles to finish my jacket for the wedding tomorrow.” Belle’s eyes widened in alarm.

“What time is it?” She gasped.

“5 o’clock in the evening,” was the answer, as Adam smoothed his ruffled coat and tried to concentrate very hard on mathematics and lessons and eliminating evidence of his arousal. Belle squeaked in alarm.

“Oh, merde!” She whimpered. “Oh, Mme Garderobe will draw and quarter me! You’ll have no Belle to be your bride tomorrow!! I was supposed to be in my chamber an hour ago!!” She flew from the library in a flurry of dust and skirts, then wheeled back as she reached the door, kissing Adam passionately on the lips. “They won’t let me see you tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep well, my love!” She was gone, leaving an amused and bemused Prince in her wake.

How had he been so fortunate? He mused, fingering the book that Belle had left on the table by the chair. Perhaps he ought to read Plato for himself and see if there was an answer to be found in his pages.


	10. Chapter 10

Belle stood in front of the very large mirror while Madame du Garderobe and Mademoiselle Plumette fussed over her wedding gown. It was a very large, very formal gown, made of many, many layers. Belle despised it with every inch of her being. On top of the frilly, lacy, ridiculous gown, with its many hoops and layers, was a very heavy silk brocade coat – a very beautiful feminine version of the coats Adam wore, in a color similar to his eyes. She could have loved it, had it not been so heavy, so ridiculously embroidered, so very warm, and so awkward.

"I can hardly move, Marie," she complained.

"Oh, but you look so very lovely," Mme du Garderobe soothed. You are like a blossom.

"I'm like a cake!" Belle exclaimed, and Plumette let loose with a girlish giggle. "Adam will hate it!"

"No, no!" Plumette, disagreed. "He will love it! For you are the most beautiful princess in all of France! Indeed, in all of the world!" Belle raised an eyebrow.

"You've squished, pushed, laced, and buttoned me into this ridiculous pretentiousness. How in the world am I to get out of it with only a husband to aid me?" Both women looked at each other with mischievous smiles.

"That," said Mme du Garderobe. "Is half the fun! By the time he gets you out of this gown he will be so desperate for you and you for him, all your fears will have vanished. But not to worry, ma petite, we have a dancing gown for you." Belle lifted her chin inquiringly.

"Fears?" The realization that tonight she would finally lose her maidenhead suddenly settled on her like a weight. "Oh." Belle looked down at her hands, twisting them in front of her. "Oh, I'd forgotten about that. I know there is a great deal of pleasure to be had. But the rest of it," she paused. "Does it hurt very much?"

Madame du Garderobe sat on a stool near Belle, urging her to sit as well. It was an awkward motion, with all the hoops and skirts, but Belle eventually managed it.

"My first husband, he was not a good man. He was not a kind man. He was chosen for me and I did not love him. I fear sometimes that it was terribly cruel of me, but I did not mourn him when he died. It was not until my dear Cadenza that I found that pleasure could be found in the arms of a man. But Sophie," Mme du Garderobe looked at Plumette. "You have only had Lumiere, I think, oui?"

Belle looked up at Plumette is surprise.

"Sophie?" she questioned.

"It is my name," said Plumette, taking Belle's hand. "And you must use it, I think, as you call Madame by Marie. And oui, Lumiere has been my only lover." Plumette had a dreamy smile on her face as she spoke. "I think it must depend as much on the readiness of the woman as the gentleness of the man. He made sure I was very, very ready, and he was so very, very tender. It hardly pinched for a moment and then not at all. We drank a little together that night. A very strong port wine. I felt very warm inside, and by the time we were finished, I could remember only the pleasure and nothing of the pain." Plumette gave Belle's hand a little squeeze and they stood together.

Belle sighed heavily. This evening would be nothing, if she could only get through the day.

* * *

It was some time later that Belle knelt with Adam in front of the Bishop. Adam had written to the dauphin about their engagement and marriage, as was expected of him. The news had reached the bishop, who had suddenly remembered the young prince and felt a great and urgent need to attend the wedding himself.

The Bishop was a very old and disapproving man and Belle found she did not like him at all. He had arrived three evenings ago and had made disapproving noises and faces upon meeting her in the library. He was clearly of a mind that a woman's place was not among the learned. Belle would have been much happier being married by Père Robert in the village, but there was nothing to be done for it now. She glanced up at the good Monseigneur, who now stood relegated to the side. The bishop droned on in Latin, intoning – or rather warbling – the mass in Latin. Père Robert smiled apologetically at her and Belle lowered her gaze before she could smile back, knowing that a smile would quickly turn into a giggle and that the Bishop would most certainly NOT approve.

She made the mistake, then, of peeking at Adam. Lumiere had combed and groomed the prince's facial hair into something she supposed was supposed to be fashionable. She couldn't help it then, a quiet giggle escaped, and she tried desperately to cover it with a soft cough.

Adam peeked at her. His poor beard, she thought, which only made her giggles worse. It looked like a pair of scissors had been glued to his face, with the bottom of his beard now pointed to an absurd peak and his moustache curled out on either side above his upper lip. Adam raised an eyebrow, and Belle pursed her lips tightly, squeezing her eyes against the ridiculous thoughts.

"Ego conjúngo vos in matrimónium. In nómine Patris, et Fílii, et Spíritus Sancti. Amen." The Bishop droned, as he sprinkled them with holy water.

It continued on for a time and then the bishop at last began to conclude, "Réspice, quæsumus, Dómine, super hos fámulos tuos: et institútis tuis, quibus propagatiónem humáni géneris ordinásti, benígnus assíste; ut qui te auctóre jungúntur, te auxiliánte servéntur. Per Christum Dóminum nostrum. Amen." Belle felt a great weight lift off her.

Adam leaned over and very quietly whispered in her ear, "How soon can we make our escape so I can rid you of that ridiculous gown?" Belle's responding giggle was not at all quiet this time, and there was no missing the glare of disapproval from the elderly bishop who presided over them.

"As soon as you like," she answered softly. "So long as I can please comb that ludicrous pair of scissors off your face. What in heavens name did Lumiere do to you?"

"Only made me the most fashionable prince to wear facial hair," Adam pretended to preen as they made their way from the small cathedral. Belle snorted in amused disagreement.

"You look as outrageous as I feel," she laughed. He helped her into their carriage.

"Well," he answered. "I think you look lovely."

"Lovely," Belle raised one delicate eyebrow at her prince. "Indeed. And you are stuck on that side of the carriage because I've got entirely too many skirts for you to sit anywhere near me. It is little wonder fancy ladies of the court swoon so often and so delicately. I feel positively overheated in this silly gown. The corset I can bear, but the jacket is entirely too much. I feel extremely certain the entire purpose of a wedding gown is to make sure a bride makes it to the wedding bed unsullied."

"Can I not at least attempt a little sullying?" Adam smirked, reaching for Belle.

"You can try," Belle allowed. "I doubt you will succeed before we get to the castle. And once we do, I believe there is to be much drinking and dancing? At least Sophie and Marie have a dress more suited to dancing for me to change into." Adam smiled.

"Mmm," he breathed softly. "I do so like the dancing gowns those two put you in. They are so soft and lovely."

They were at the castle before any sullying could be done, and Belle was whisked away to be changed for the wedding ball. It was to be a suitably grand affair, as was expected. But unlike the lavish affairs of the prince's former life, the invitation had been extended to all of the village. This made it very unusual and a pleasant coming together of old and new, of courtly and common. Belle found that she rather enjoyed it.

Less wasteful than previous affairs, the dinner that could have fed a village did indeed feed a village, and Belle was glad for the display of generosity, rather than of pompous wealth. It was a thing not understood by many of Adam's peers, and she feared he would ultimately be judged poorly for it, but he was loved among Villeneuve in a way that few princes were, and that was what mattered. A prince, she felt very strongly, should be loved by those to whom he held a responsibility for. If he was to hold power, he should also take the responsibility that came with such and it warmed her to see him do so, when so many other noblemen did not.

It was with this affection that she found herself in Adam's arms that night, and Plumette's words returned to her. _I think it must depend as much on the readiness of the woman as the gentleness of the man._

Belle found she was so very ready now, and her prince was so very, very gentle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N Marie seemed like a good name for Madame du Gardeobe and I picked Sophie after the actress who played Plumette in the live action film (her middle name).  
> Not bothering to translate the latin mass, as I'm hoping it comes across that Belle is pretty bored by the entire thing, overheated, a little giggly, and not paying any attention.
> 
> I think I have at most one or two more chapters and then I will be done. Thank you all so much for the amazing feedback.


	11. Chapter 11

Adam gazed lovingly at Belle as she stood near the balcony in their bedchamber. Her chambers had been moved to the adjoining room, though Belle had made it clear she would rarely, if ever, sleep there. She seemed caught in her own thoughts as he moved behind her, wrapping her in his embrace and kissing her in the sweet crook of her neck.

"Marie wanted me in a peruke," she giggled. "Can you imagine it? On top of all those skirts? I think I would have died!" Her face was flushed and Adam wondered, not for the first time that night, if she had perhaps had a little more wine than she usually did.

"I cannot imagine, do not wish to imagine, and am everlastingly pleased that you are currently in far fewer skirts and layers. You looked like a rather tasty bit of cake, and I must admit I am eager to devour you." Belle turned to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his lips.

"Devour me, husband," she said in a low voice. "We've dined and drunk our fill, and now it is certainly time for sweets." Adam smiled at her in amusement.

"You have certainly drunk your fill, my beauty!" he answered with a low chuckle. "How much have you had to drink?"

"All god Bacchus had to spare and more!" Belle moaned softly, moving to the bed as she tried to unlace her dress. Clearly she had forgotten about the buttons and she gave a frustrated little stomp of her foot. "Oh, husband, help me. The girls have all but sewn me into this wretched thing."

Adam knew he was far from sober himself as he caught her up in his arms. With one great heft, he tore the silk down the seams and Belle shrieked in horror or amusement. Mostly amusement, he guessed, judging from the grin on her face.

"Is that better?" he asked, feigning contriteness. Belle fell back on the bed, laughing in delight.

"Marie will absolutely die of horror when she sees the gown in the morning!" Belle giggled.

"When did Madame become Marie?" Adam wondered. "And why are we talking of her, anyway?" Belle gasped in delectation as he began the torturously slow kisses she'd grown to love so much.

"She became Marie and Plumette became Sophie to me when they became my femmes de chambres. They are my friends and companions and equals. I cannot see them as servants." Belle said by way of response. Adam grunted in reply.

"And why are we speaking of them?" he asked.

"Because you ripped my dress," she gasped. Adam kissed her again as he slid the torn fabric from her body.

"And did you plan on wearing that particular dress again?" He said, trailing soft, delectable kisses over her collarbone and to the soft cleft between her breasts. Belle merely shook her head. "And this corset," he continued. "This deathtrap of whalebone and silk," he traced a finger down the front of it. "Are you likewise sewn into this? It seems particularly designed to keep a prince from his wife, and while I love what it does to your most delicious waist, I do not like how very much it is in my way at the moment." Belle laughed softly, and Adam enjoyed the musical sound of it.

"It is NOT a deathtrap," she protested. "I find I like it very much, so long as they do not lace me in too tightly. There are laces in the rear. Marie left one long. You need only tug it and the whole thing should come loose for you quite easily." Adam followed her instruction and was very pleased to find it immediately did as she said it would.

"Your turn," Belle whispered. Adam feigned ignorance.

"My turn what, beautiful girl?" he said, kissing her again and discovering the taste of brandy among the wine on her tongue.

"I am nearly naked and you are nearly fully clothed and it isn't fair. I am not quite strong enough to rip your jacket to pieces, and I should like you out of it as soon as you could manage, please." Adam kissed her again, tasting her more fully, allowing himself to be intoxicated by the kiss and the slightly wicked feeling of knowing just what would come next.

"Belle," he questioned. "Have you been drinking brandy?"

"It was there," she excused herself.

"Indeed it was," he began to divest himself of his clothing, feeling himself harden under her watchful, lustful gaze. It was so unlike any look she'd given to him in the past, even on those occasions that she had pleasured him with her hands and mouth that he found himself as unsteady as he had ever been in her presence. She moved on him with unexpected speed, wrapping herself around him and planting kisses on him with such ferocity that he nearly fell over with the force of it.

"How much brandy?" He laughed out loud.

"I lost track. Enough to make me feel thoroughly warm and tingly throughout. But not enough to overshadow what is happening. Make me your wife, husband!" Belle demanded. Adam very willingly moved to acquiesce.

Slowly, he began to lay her back on the pillows, rejoicing in the artistry of her figure, the beauty of her curves, the wonder of her grace. She shivered slightly and he moved over her, kissing her first and then stroking her arms with his hands.

"Perhaps," he allowed. "Or perhaps I would rather move very slowly." He kissed her forehead, her cheek, her earlobe, her jaw and her neck. "Perhaps I could simply bask in your beauty, worship you like the goddess of love. Perhaps, just for tonight, I could raise you up on that pedestal you hate so much." He trailed kisses down her shoulders as he lifted the hem of her chemise to raise it up over her head. "Tonight I will make you my Aphrodite, my Venus, my Hathor, my Freya." His kisses continued to trail lower, as he removed the final scraps of undergarments from Belle's body. They lay utterly naked together now.

"And you will be my Eros?" Belle wondered softly.

"I'd rather be your Pan," he replied. "Eros is Aphrodite's son, and that is just wrong. Besides, Pan is wild and untamed love." Adam had kissed down to Belle's hips and back up again and was holding her gently in his arms now. "I know you love me wild and untamed."

* * *

Belle gasped softly as she felt Adam begin to probe her gently. She was pleasantly lightheaded from the drink earlier in the evening, but not so much that it overshadowed what was happening now.

He began to move down her much as he had the first time he gave her pleasure, using his mouth, but where he had at first only used one finger, now he gave her two. It was enticingly pleasant. She felt full, but not painfully so, as he continued to please her.

"That's new," she observed softly, reaching for his shoulders. She could feel the curve of Adam's lips as he smiled against her and the rasp of his beard. At least whatever oil had been put into it had left it amazingly soft and silky. His hair, now loosed from his ponytail, tickled her thighs, and Belle gloried in the sensations. She could feel the warmth rise up inside her, begin to clench at her belly as he brought her to the newly familiar peak of pleasure.

"Stop, Adam," she demanded, placing her hands on his head. "You'll finish me, and we've hardly begun." Adam kissed her fingers, but did not remove his own from inside her.

"No, dearest Belle," he whispered in dulcet tones. "For you are about to learn another great secret. A great gift that has been given to women, and to women alone. I can pleasure you now and again and again tonight. And each time will be greater than the last. Give yourself to me. Trust me. Abandon yourself to me." He placed his thumb against the soft center of her that she'd learned was the key to her pleasure and she found herself shattering in his arms. Even as she did so, even as her world began to fall apart, she could feel Adam's hand replaced with something else, something different, something new. Belle was so caught up in her pleasure that even the momentary pain meant nothing. It rolled and crashed over her like waves on a beach and she found herself grasping and clutching at her lover's shoulders, realizing that it was his own manhood she felt inside her.

She was stunned and amazed and tears sprang to her eyes.

"Belle," Adam wiped the tears from her eyes with such gentleness it made her want to cry harder. "I'm so sorry love." She couldn't speak and only shook her head at him. He misunderstood her tears. She kissed him fiercely and then laughed out loud as she floated down from her peak of bliss.

"You are altogether the most wonderful man I have ever known!" Belle declared.


	12. Epilogue

In another part of the castle, Plumette lay beside Lumiere, stroking soft circles over his chest as he held her in his arms. Her tears had long since dried and there was a sort of resigned peace about her now, a hollow ache that she knew only time and love would heal.

"Belle is the saviour of us all," she whispered to her lover. "And yet, sometimes such sadness comes over me and there is such desolation and darkness that I fear even the many days in the sun cannot chase it away." Lumiere was silent for a time, absorbing her burden and letting her simply speak and feel. At last, he answered.

"While we were yet objects we had such hope within us. Can you not find hope within you again, my Sophie?" His voice was soft and pleading.

"In time, I think, it will return. You mustn't think I am utterly devoid of it. There is enough joy in this castle to fill a whole world." She choked again a little. "And I love my Belle so very dearly. She is my friend and I am her companion, and I think in time we shall be much like sisters ever could be." A tear escaped the corner of her eye. "There is no hate in my heart, Jean," she whispered. "I wish, sometimes, that I could cast blame on someone and hate someone for the wrong that was done us. But I cannot find it in myself to do that. All I can do is smile and move forward, each day, into the sun, as the light casts shadows on my heart."

Lumiere reached over and wiped the tear from Plumette's cheek as it fell, and she nestled into him.

There would be hope again. They would live in the sun and laugh anew. It would take time, but they would heal and there would be hope again.

**The End.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ends Stay the Night. I am currently working on another piece, under the working title of 'Shadows in her Eyes'. The epilogue alludes to it. It will again be an M-rated fic, but not for steamy scenes. It will deal primarily with the impact that the curse might have had on the staff. I'll be picking on Lumiere and Plumette as my main romantic couple. It will take at least a week for it to go up, since I want to have it well edited before the first few chapters go up.


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